


There's A Wolf In My Heart

by nessbess



Series: Werewolves of Chicago [8]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Torture, Werewolf Sex, Werewolf!Ian, werewolf cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 09:32:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1894050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nessbess/pseuds/nessbess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey felt jumpy, his gaze constantly snapping to Ian with every move the other man made as he sat complacently reading, curled up on the couch. He wasn't used to feeling so downright protective of anyone who wasn't Mandy. But he just couldn't get the image out of his mind - Ian mostly naked, bound and bleeding as the hunters laughed at the sight of his body jerking with wave after wave of electric current.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's A Wolf In My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song You Are The Wilderness by Voxhaul Broadcast

Mickey felt jumpy, his gaze constantly snapping to Ian with every move the other man made as he sat complacently reading, curled up on the couch. He wasn't used to feeling so downright  _protective_ of anyone who wasn't Mandy.

Even when he'd been a scrawny little thing with big doe eyes and a plethora of freckles, Ian had always been able to take care of himself. It made no fucking sense for Mickey to feel so alert to Ian's slightest twitch. But he just couldn't get the image out of his mind - Ian mostly naked, bound and bleeding as the hunters laughed at the sight of his body jerking with wave after wave of electric current. 

"I can hear your brain working from here," Ian said as he dog-eared the corner of his page, setting his book to the side.

Mickey carefully placed his beer on the table as the redhead stalked towards him and slid onto Mickey's lap, straddling him with his hands locked behind Mickey's neck. Mickey's hands automatically went for Ian's wrists, thumbing at the pulse point. In his mind's eye, he could still feel the flesh raw and charred from the wolfsbane ropes and high-voltage electricity. "Yeah, well we can't all have super-human hearing," he deadpanned.

"Hey," Ian caught Mickey's hands with his own, tangling their fingers together. "Look at me. I'm fine."

"Physically, yeah," Mickey allowed, ignoring the subtle surprise on Ian's face when he didn't pull his hands away. "But they tortured you. They were going to kill you. She  _touched_ you..."

"And now they're all dead," Ian shrugged. " _She's_ dead. You saved me." He dropped a kiss to the inside of Mickey's wrist, making Mickey pull back and glance around the Gallagher home to ensure that they were, in fact, alone and away from prying eyes. It didn't matter how safe he felt with the Gallaghers, there were just some instincts he feared would never leave him.

Ian huffed a sigh, dropping his hands to his own thighs as he leaned back to look into Mickey's eyes.

Mickey flinched away from the disappointment he saw there and chewed on his lip, determinedly studying a crack in the wall behind Ian's ear.

"I'm fine, Mick," Ian said again. He leaned in, gently pressing his lips against the corner of Mickey's frowning mouth.

The touch startled Mickey and he turned into the kiss, Ian responding with a needy moan as Mickey captured his lips with his own. Even though he had lost most of his earlier reservations about kissing, it still wasn't something that they did often. Mickey had thought that Ian had come to understand that Mickey couldn't reject him anymore, but the weary acceptance in his gaze when Mickey had pulled his hands away struck him to the bone. Now, he worried that all his years of emotional distance had really fucked the kid up. He knew that he had a lot of shit to make up for, but damn it, he was  _trying_.

Mickey cradled Ian's face gently between his palms, tugging him closer to deepen the kiss. The effect was instantaneous - Ian melted against his body with a soft sigh, his hands tangling into Mickey's hair as the tension dissolved from his frame.

Ian kissed him hungrily. Wordlessly coaxing him to slow, Mickey sank into the kiss and the lazy grind of their hips.

"Mick," Ian whimpered, his thighs clenching around Mickey's hips as the older boy nosed along his jaw, pausing to suck on his earlobe. One of Mickey's hands dropped to stroke soothing lines up and down his lover's back, hugging him to his chest as he wrapped Ian in the warmth of  _safe_ and  _here_ and  _mine_. 

He knew that Ian preferred rough fucks - dirty and full of hard pounding and more like a fight than anything else, leaving both of their bodies littered with bruises. Both of them did. But this - after seeing Ian bound and bloodied - it was different. He needed this to be slow and gentle. Maybe they both did.

Ian moaned softly in Mickey's ear, his hands sliding down Mickey's chest to undo both of their pants. He pulled Mickey out of his boxers, stroking him once - twice - before he spat into his palm and wrapped the hand around both of their dicks, stroking them together. Breath coming in pants, Mickey watched Ian's face as the other boy watched them pressed together, appearing and disappearing in his fist. He arched into Ian's hand, darting in to nip at his lips until Ian caught him in a kiss, his tongue stroking deeply in Mickey's mouth as he swallowed the older boy's groans.

Mickey pulled back, panting hotly against Ian's jaw as he tried to pull his thoughts together. Ian's hand, rhythmically squeezing at the head of his cock, was not helping. "Bed. Naked. Now." He grunted roughly, unable to find more breath or brain cells to make words work. His entire world was focused on Ian's hand and Ian's mouth, the warm weight of Ian in his lap and the ache building inside of him, telling him he needed Ian's dick to get in him  _really fucking soon_. 

With a huffed laugh, Ian dove in for one last kiss before he pulled back and stood, cock jutting proudly from the opening of his jeans and curving towards his stomach. He turned as he pulled his t-shirt over his head, exposing his flexing back muscles to Mickey's appreciative gaze. He sauntered up the stairs to his bedroom, paying no heed to his dick, bobbing with every step. He should have looked ridiculous as fuck and it was really fucked up that he only looked maybe two percent ridiculous. 

As he disappeared from view, Mickey licked his lips and was off the chair like a rocket, cupping his own dick to his stomach as he took the stairs three at a time. He knew he looked ludicrous, but fuck you, Ian was up there, probably naked, and he needed that cock  _in_ him.

Sure enough, when he entered the bedroom Ian shared with Carl and Liam, Ian was sprawled comfortably against his pillows, naked except for one sock that looked as if it had been shoved halfway down his foot and then forgotten. Again, Mickey was slightly put out that Ian didn't look the slightest bit comical as he lay there, lazily stroking his thick cock. His hooded, blazing blue gaze drifted up and down Mickey's body, only to stop at Mickey's dick, still cupped against his t-shirt. He smirked, elongated fangs bared.

Mickey shucked his jeans and boxers in one motion before tugging his shirt up and over his head. "Fucking Christ, Gallagher," he moaned. He had a nagging suspicion that this wasn't going to end up as the slow, easy fuck he had originally desired.

Mickey crawled on top of him, nosing at his balls and dick, knocking Ian's hand out of the way, before trailing his mouth up Ian's stomach and chest in a wet line. He sucked a dark bruise into the wolf's throat, just above his jugular, that made Ian keen, only to watch as it disappeared moments later, his body healing itself.

"Need you in me," he said, just to feel Ian's claws dig into his hips as he bucked up against Mickey, breaking open half-healed scabs. Mickey grinned, tenderly watching as a battle for control played out in Ian's gleaming, cobalt eyes. Unconcerned, he pressed a kiss to the underside of Ian's jaw, prompting a low, rumbling growl. Regardless of whether he or the wolf won, Ian wouldn't hurt him. He was pack.

Grabbing the jar of Vaseline from the windowsill, Mickey scooped out a dollop, warming it between his fingers before he reached behind himself and pressed one in.

Ian's pupils were blown wide, a thin ring of blue glowing around the outer edges. A high-pitched whine sounded in his throat as he watched Mickey's finger disappear in and out. His claws dug into the sheets beside his hips as he fought to keep still and simply watch.

Mickey pulled his finger out, swirling two of them around the rim before pushing them back into his hole. He moaned as he gently rubbed at his prostate, hips swiveling in an attempt to both grind back onto his hand and find friction in the air as he knelt above Ian's body. Beneath him, Ian's cock slapped dully against his own stomach as he shifted his hips in tiny, aborted circles, whining all the while. His own quest for friction.

When he felt he was well enough prepared, Mickey pulled out his fingers and wrapped his slick hand around Ian's cock, stroking him to spread the lubricant down his thick shaft. The grasp startled Ian into silence. 

"Condom - should we?" Ian managed to pant, but Mickey was already shaking his head.

"Werewolves can't - carry venereal - diseases," he gasped back, rubbing the head of Ian's dick against his hole in a way that teased them both as he tried to calm his racing heart. 

Ian pressed his palm against Mickey's chest, covering his heart, his claws barely pricking the flesh. There was something unspeakably tender about the act, the look of wonder in his eyes, and Mickey knew - just  _knew_ \- that Ian was listening to his heartbeat. With a groan, he lined Ian up with his hole and pressed down, feeling the muscle give and Ian easily slide inside, as though his body were welcoming him home.

When he was fully seated, Mickey gasped, leaning forwards to rest his forehead against Ian's chest. The werewolf's hands stroked soothingly up and down his back, claws barely grazing his skin in a way that sent shivers racing down Mickey's spine. He could almost be content to simply lay there, pressed to Ian's chest with his arms around him and his dick in his ass, but he could feel the need still thrumming through his blood and the tension in Ian's body.

Laying there, he rolled his hips smoothly. Ian's cock dragged out of him and back in, his own rubbing against the soft hair leading to Ian's groin. He knew he was making a mess of Ian's stomach, his cock leaking through the trail of soft hair below Ian's navel with every pass, leaving behind sticky precome like the path of a snail. From the resumed whining, Mickey figured he didn't mind too much. Especially when Ian's hands wrapped around Mickey's hips, pulling down to spear him on his cock and arching up to press them even closer. Mickey gave in with a contented sigh, allowing Ian to take control of their movements as each thrust rubbed against that spot that sent fireworks shivering through his dick, which twitched violently, spilling more precome onto Ian's stomach.

They didn't last long. As Mickey bit down on Ian's shoulder, his mouth filling with the warmth of blood, Ian came with a strangled bark, pulling Mickey down onto him as he ground up, crushing Mickey's cock between their bodies, his own a rod of heat pressed hard against Mickey's prostate. Mickey seamlessly followed him over the edge.

They lay there, Ian's soft cock still inside of Mickey, content. The sweat cooled on their skin, making Mickey shiver and press closer to Ian's warmth, while the come between them threatened to glue them together forever. Mickey found he wasn't too opposed to the thought. 

Finally, they tumbled into the shower, Ian draping himself across Mickey's back like an over attentive blanket, his face nuzzling firmly into the base of Mickey's neck as his arms flexed rhythmically around his waist and chest like a boa constrictor. Or perhaps more like a cat kneading at the lap it nestled in. A deep, growling purr rumbled in the werewolf's chest, sending vibrations through Mickey's back, as he continued to rub his cheek against Mickey. Against his  _mate_. 

It was as if Ian were trying to climb inside Mickey, in a way that wasn't even sexual, but as a merging of their very souls. The realization of it made his heart tighten painfully in an influx of emotion. Mickey turned under the spray until he was facing the other man, wrapping his arms around him in a returned hug, squeezing tightly as if by doing so, he could relieve the ache in his own chest.

The purr cut off with a surprised sound as Ian pressed his face into the joint of Mickey's neck and shoulder. Mickey could feel the other man's lips moving against his skin - an open, a close, and a slow roll that could only be one mouthed phrase. Mickey half hoped that it was 'elephant shoes' or maybe 'alligator food'. But those were, quite frankly, ridiculous and he knew the truth: ' _I love you_ '.  _  
_

Mickey squeezed his eyes shut so tightly that they ached, fighting against the burst of panic at the words. This was Ian, who he'd almost lost too many times. "Yeah," he said, voice hoarse and muffled against Ian's collarbone. He flicked out his tongue to lick at suddenly dry lips, catching a taste of Ian's skin along the way. "Yeah. I..." The word froze in his throat. "Me, too."

He waited for Ian to laugh at him for being unable to say the words - or maybe to curse or get that disappointed look that Mickey had become all too familiar with. Instead, the only sign that Ian had heard and understood was a slight gasp, the impossible tightening of his arms, and a fresh wetness against his shoulder.

"Hey, are you crying?" Mickey asked, suddenly scared. He pulled back to see Ian's face. "What the fuck, man? Why are you crying?"

"I love you," Ian said like a revelation, watching Mickey with something akin to wonder in his wet doe eyes.

"Don't be such a fag," Mickey scoffed, much gentler than he had intended. Of its own volition, his thumb rose to wipe away the tears mingling with shower water beneath Ian's eye. He scowled at the offending digit, but made no effort to stop it.

"I thought I'd never see you again," Ian's voice came out in small, panicked huffs. "I thought they were going to kill me, and I'd never get the chance to say goodbye - you'd have never known what had happened to me. You'd have thought I just left again."

"Don't be an idiot," the older boy said, voice impossibly soft. His thumb made idle circles where it still rested against Ian's cheek. "I was so... I'd hoped you'd gone home with someone else. Someone you'd met at the club," he admitted, flushing. "I was too... I didn't want to consider any other possibilities, even if I knew that wasn't true."

Ian was quiet for a long time, the spray of water turning cold around them. "Do you fuck other people?" he asked eventually.

Mickey jerked back, shutting off the water and grabbing a towel. "Fuck off," he scowled, unsure why he was so stung.

Shivering, Ian crossed his arms, which served only to emphasize his broad chest as he watched Mickey with a hard look in his eyes. "Just answer the question," he said coolly. He watched as, still dripping, Mickey wrapped the towel around his waist and agitatedly paced around the bathroom. 

"...No," Mickey came to an abrupt halt, thumbing at his lip as he scrutinized Ian, his eyes uncertain and vulnerable in a way that Ian had only rarely seen. "Christ, man. You're  _it_ for me, you know?" he shrugged helplessly. 

Ian's gaze softened as he stepped out of the shower, burying his face in Mickey's damp hair and wrapping him in comfort. "Yeah," he breathed quietly. "I know. You're my mate."

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, it's just working out that every even-numbered part is total schmoop. I don't really think anyone minds.


End file.
